


Stanley's a big dumb idiot

by bacom



Category: The Stanley Parable
Genre: Self-Harm, lmao this is way to edgy but like, what am i gonna do write fluff?? no, what if we hugged in the staff lounge (and we're both guys :flushed:)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-20
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-10-24 13:57:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20707157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bacom/pseuds/bacom
Summary: He's tired of being someones toy





	Stanley's a big dumb idiot

**Author's Note:**

> yo what the fuck i never make summaries that serious anyways hi

Stanley had done this all too many times.

The narrator spoke and controlled his actions, it spoke for him, thoughts, feelings actions. All narrated out before him in that god awful voice in his head.

It was so goddamn annoying, and he was so tired. He knew, no matter what he did, no matter what choices he made, he would never truly be free as the cycle would start over and over, and over again. So, he made his own choice, carved his own path.

He aimlessly wandered the halls while the narrator spoke

**Stanley came to a set of 2 open doors.**

He took the one on his right, and of course the omnipresent narrator spoke up about it.

**This was not the correct way to the meeting room, and he knew it well.**

He growled, god he was so sick of it.

Once in the lounge he looked through all the drawers, looking for something, anything. Until he found it, a boxcutter.

**Oh.. I thought I hid all the sharp objects.. Stanley put that down would you.**

He didn’t listen, he was done listening to that god forsaken voice. He folded his sleeve up to his elbow, aiming the cutter up with his wrist. He was done being some toy.

**Stanley!! Quit it! That’s not funny- Stanley!**

He snarled, tears were growing in his eyes but he didn’t care. He made a deep quick slice across his wrist and gasped, fresh blood quickly rushing out the wound. He cried out and dropped the blade, gripping the wound. The tears spilled down his cheeks and onto the ground.

There was no voice now, no narrator. He was gone.

Stanley curled in on himself, crying silently. His wound stung and his whole body shook with each quiet sob.

No matter how long he stayed there, no voice told him to pick himself up, no voice led him to the directions of the nearest first aid kit.

And for the first time in a while, he felt truly and utterly alone.

** _The end is never the end is never the end is never the end is _ ** ** _LOADING _ ** ** _the end is.._ **

He stayed on the floor and cried until he was out of tears, leaving himself as a small shivering mess on the floor, his arm was numb and blood coated his hand and paddled up on the floor. He didn’t expect to miss the narrator so much. 

_ Stanley. _

He perked up, the narrator! He wasn’t gone but, he didn’t sound right either.

_ Stanley, I need you to get up. _

No.. the voice wasn’t in his head anymore, he looked behind him, and there he was, the narrator.

He was a well dressed man, around the same age as Stanley. They wore yellow tinted glasses and a tie.

“Stanley, What made you think that was okay to do?!” The voice scolded, though now there was an image attached to it

He didn’t answer and got up from the puddle he made of himself. Turning, and without a second thought, bringing the man into a hug. Bleeding all over his back.

“Oh Stanley. You could’ve just asked for a hug.”

  
** _LOADING LOADING LOADING LOADING LOADING LOADING _ ** ** _LOADING _ ** ** _LOADING _ **

**Author's Note:**

> peepee poopoo


End file.
